*Author's Note: Any and all persons engaging in any sexual activity are at least eighteen years of age.
**Disclaimers: This story has been edited by myself, utilizing Microwave Spell Check. You have been forewarned; expect to find mistakes.
**..**..**
Antony 'Tony' Lewis watched the Kombat Krew of Rusty Barnes, Phat Pat, Jackson Brewsted, Alvin Schmidt and a few others make complete asses out of themselves. It was the first graduation party they'd attended and already the Kombat Krew, as they called themselves were making a nuisance of themselves. Finally, the step-father of the young lady hosting the party had his fill of the Kombat Krew and asked the immature boys to leave.
Rusty, as usual, designated himself as the leader of the group and told the step-father to suck his dick. The slap the man delivered toppled Rusty onto the floor.
"Coming, Lewis?" Jackson demanded as they slunk out of the large home.
"Uh, no? Uh, I ain't with y'all," Tony stated.
On the first day of senior year at Lloyd M. Bentsen High School, a brand new school for Tony, he'd worn his 'Grand Theft Auto' tee shirt. Milling around outside, he'd seen a group of guys wearing 'Mortal Kombat' tee shirts and had happily taken his place in their group.
As the school year progressed, Tony experienced a growth spurt, one that put inches and pounds on his formerly scrawny frame, and one that had put some maturity into his brain cells. Tony saw the group for what they were; immature, disenchanted young men that would not fare well beyond the walls of high school. And, they weren't faring too well inside of the walls of high school. They were at the very bottom of the food chain. They were despised, or worse yet, were ignored by every other clique in their school.
Attempting to join other cliques, Tony found out he'd painted himself into a corner as far as his peers were concerned. A few stragglers, the few that did not belong to any cliques did eventually accept him, allow him to join them as they circled the periphery of their peers.
At another party, the girl's parents were not home. The music was deafening and some danced to the thudding, pounding, pumping beat. Tony asked a few girls to dance. Two girls politely rebuffed him. One girl just stared at him, saying nothing until Tony crept away, face burning hotly.
Then Jory White, a very pretty brunette got into a screaming match with her boyfriend. Actually, Jory was the one doing all the screaming; Tim Knudsen was just trying to walk away from her. Jory moved to slap Tim, but wound up staggering into a sliding glass door, shattering it. She managed to severely cut herself in the process.
Tony hurried to the kitchen and grabbed a dishtowel from the counter. He hurried back and applied pressure to the wound on Jory's forearm. Becky Gardner, another pretty brunette helped Jory out to her car and they drove off.
Tony then helped Tim Knudsen sweep up the broken glass. Angela Watson, the girl hosting the party was wailing about her parents; she'd not had permission to have a party. While two of her friends tried to comfort Angela, Tony taped three garbage bags over the steel frame of the sliding door in an effort to keep the mosquitos out of the home.
Neither Angela nor her friends thanked Tony or Tim for their help. With a shrug, Tony agreed to drive Tim to Ashanti Cahn's home where yet another graduation party was in full swing. As Tony drove them to the Julia Pines home, Tim disclosed the fight had been about his decision not to go to college, specifically to Norwill University with Jory.
"Fuck, dude, barely managed to scrape by in high school. Really think I'm college material?" Tim asked.
"Got nothing to say, dude," Tony agreed. "Just glad as fuck be out of school, know what I'm saying?"
At the door of the ostentatious home in the exclusive neighborhood, Tony Lewis made Deanna Cahn smile when he called her 'Ashanti.' The African-American woman smiled a dazzling smile and pointed to her eighteen year old daughter.
"I, ma'am, that, Ashanti? She your sister or something?" Tony asked.
"Ooh, you sweet," Deanna laughed a throaty chuckle. "Uh, she's my baby girl?"
The music was loud, thudding and throbbing. Again, Tony circulated the party, asking a few girls to dance. And, again, he got shot down. Dejected, he walked over to the bar and made himself a whiskey and Seven-Up.
"Ain't having no luck, huh?" Ashanti Cahn said, smiling a sympathetic smile at Tony.
"No, no, guess, I just don't know what to say or how to say it," Tony admitted to his classmate.
"Hmm. Um, well, um, why, why don't you try it on me?" Ashanti suggested.
Tony looked at the attractive eighteen year old African-American girl. Her face was round, with big brown eyes, a snub nose and full lips. Her skin was the color of milk chocolate and her hair was jet black, hanging to her shoulders in soft curls.
Tony had once overheard Ashanti telling Mercedes Phillips, her best friend that Wilhelmenia Cahn, her maternal grandmother was a German citizen that had fallen in love with an African-American soldier of the US Army, stationed in Germany.
"Yeah, she might been in love, but him? Minute she come up knocked up with my momma? He was all like 'See Ya!'" Ashanti had said.
Listening to Ashanti filling in more of her history, her mother had become pregnant for her from a passionate encounter with a blond male teacher, back when Lloyd M. Ventsen and been LBJ High School. Mercedes tried to do the math in her head.
"So you, you're what? Half black?" Mercedes had guessed.
"No, my momma's half black," Ashanti had smiled. "And that's if my momma's daddy was one hundred percent all black."
Tony looked into Ashanti's eyes and realized she was waiting for him to ask her to dance. He saw the beginning of a smile on her full lips.
"I uh, hey Ashanti, you uh, you wouldn't want to dance, huh?" Tony stammered.
"I'd love to," Ashanti said.
Tony nervously began to bounce and gyrate to the music. He wondered how many of his peers were watching him, looking at him as he danced with a black girl.
Tony's dad, Todd Lewis would have marched right up to Tony and punched him. Todd would shove Ashanti out of the way, shoved the pretty girl away from his son, his only son. Then Todd would have slammed his fist into Tony's face, hoping to inflict maximum pain and damage to Tony's face. Todd would have felt justified; even just talking to a black person was bringing shame onto their good, Christian home.
In the pretty sundress, the light pink color highlighting her creamy brown skin, Ashanti 34C breasts bobbled and jiggled as Tony and Ashanti thrust and bounced to the pounding music. Tony looked and looked again, sure he could see Ashanti's half-dollar sized dark brown areolae through the thin dress.
A crooning rhythmic ballad began, bass drum and bass guitar still thudding and pounding, albeit at a slower pace. Tony was about to step away when Ashanti melted against him. Her five feet, four inches put her forehead at his nose and he could smell the floral shampoo she used. He could also smell her sweat, a light musky scent.
"You a good dancer," Ashanti praised, breath warm in his ear.
"I uh, thanks. Thanks. You too," Tony said, shuffling against her as his arms held her.
He could feel her sweet breasts rubbing against him. He could feel her narrow waist with his hands, could feel her luscious hips.
"Mm hmm," Ashanti moaned her approval into his ear as he chanced a fondle of her delectable buttocks.
"Now, Tony, when you go up and you say, 'you wouldn't want to dance with me?' All you doing is telling the girl you expect her to tell you no," Ashanti coached.
"Oh," Tony said, mulling that information over in his head.
"Um, so how should I do it?" he asked.
"Go up to her and say 'Let's dance.' Period. You confidant. You got this, you got this," Ashanti encouraged.
The singer, Tony could not tell if it was male or female finally finished warbling nonsensical lyrics about love forever and ever. Another high-tempo song began, but Ashanti did not relinquish her grip on Tony. They continued to shuffle together, holding one another.